The Biggest Pretend
by Wendy Brune
Summary: Wendy's shutting the door - erh, window? - on her childhood, something Peter would never do... unless someone challenged him on it. Peter Pan can do anything of course, and growing up might just be his biggest pretend.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **Small revisions as of 7/13/12 for typos and minor issues. Thanks to my original beta, Manic-Cheese-Fairy.

* * *

**The Biggest Pretend**

xxx

**Chapter One**

Wendy Darling had always known since the tender age of two that she must one day grow up. Everyone has to grow up, and she was no exception.

Even knowing in advance, Wendy found, didn't make the notion any easier to stomach. Especially when one was straddling the edge of childhood.

"Oh, just think, Wendy," Mrs. Darling exclaimed from Wendy's right. Mr. Darling, Mrs. Darling, and Wendy were awaiting their announcement so that they could enter the Dashwood's grand banquet hall. "This is the last ball where you'll be announced with father and I. Are you not excited?"

In fact, Wendy was not excited at all. Tomorrow was the debutante ball, where Wendy and the other debutante's would come out to society for their first seasons.

At age sixteen, Wendy would finally be considered something of a lady, and she dreaded such a title. But, dear mother was so excited; Wendy didn't want to disappoint her, and for this reason, she gave Mrs. Darling a large (but, of course, lady-like) smile.

"Oh, very much so. But what if I trip when they call my name?"

"Why, don't worry Wendy," her father interjected. "When your mother came out, she tripped down the stairs. Nearly took out the line of debutantes in front of her!"

"George! I did no such thing!" Mrs. Darling gasped.

"Of course, it's what made me notice her," Mr. Darling continued, giving his daughter a wink. "She was the Girl-Who-Tripped."

Wendy giggled, unable to imagine her elegant mother tripping down stairs, before realizing her family was next to be called.

_How lucky that John and Michael have "caught a cold" and are permitted to miss the ball tonight_, Wendy thought of her younger brothers as she pulled on the light blue bow that held half her golden-brown curls back with a sigh. It was her favorite hair accessory, but after tomorrow she would probably only be allowed to wear it to bed; the bow was of a child-like style, not the ribbon of a young lady.

"Mr. and Mrs. Darling", the announcer's voice rang out, and Wendy followed her parents through the entrance way.

_Poor bow. You've been on oh so many adventures with me._

Despite the hesitation, however, Wendy still knew she was doing the right thing. True, she did not want to become a lady (for to become a lady was to never be allowed to jump on beds, play pretend, or do anything adventurous ever again.) But what Wendy wanted was to feel, and in particular, to love. She wanted the true love of a husband and the enduring love of one's own child. If it meant growing up in the process, well, it was worth it.

This was exactly what she had said that night, years ago, to…

_No, I mustn't think of such things_, Wendy reprimanded herself as she sat down next to her mother at their assigned table.

"Good evening Mr. Darling, Mrs. Darling," a voice beside Wendy said. She turned in her seat to find James Worthington, the son of the wealthy merchant, Mr. Thomas Worthington. Three years her senior, Wendy had played with James as a child. She remembered one of their favorite games, where Wendy's younger brothers would be the pirates, the local playground their sailing ship. Wendy and James would play the roles of the Spanish Armada, always prevailing for the "good" side.

How quickly things had changed; it had been many years since the two had talked beyond polite chatter.

Turning to Wendy with a smile, giving his curly brown hair a nervous, quick tug, James asked, "Miss Darling, would you do me the pleasure of joining me for a dance?"

Mr. and Mrs. Darling gave each other a knowing glance, not unnoticed by the younger company in front of them.

"Now now young Mr. Worthington, our Wendy hasn't come out yet. You'll have to wait until tomorrow to pursue any courtships," Mr. Darling teased with a twinkle in his eye, causing both youngsters to blush furiously.

"Oh, dear," Mrs. Darling interjected. "A dance won't hurt. Of course, you two may share a dance."

As James and Wendy walked out to the dance floor, the young girl felt a flutter of…something. Nerves? Fright? Or something else? Something else like…excitement?

The pair reached their destination, and James tentatively placed one hand on Wendy's hip, grabbing her hand with the other. The two began waltzing around the floor.

"You look very lovely tonight, Miss Darling," James said to the girl with a smile on his face.

"Oh. Thank you, Mr. Worthington," Wendy replied, hoping that this was the proper response. Secretly, she was thrilled; she spent more than one hour selecting the perfect dress for the occasion. (A light pink and blue gown, if one must know.)

"Are you excited about tomorrow?"

"Oh, most definitely not!" Wendy answered with a roll of her eyes, before freezing in horror. Had she just said such a thing, and with an eye roll as well? How most unladylike! Surely her dance partner would no longer wish to waltz with her.

James let out a laugh. "Why, Miss Darling, do wipe the horror off your face! I am not offended by a young woman speaking the truth."

Wendy smiled back at the young man as the two resumed dancing, part in relief and part in giddiness.

"After all, coming out seems quite tedious," James continued.

"I am dreadfully worried about tripping in front of all of society!" she responded, relaxing.

_And there's the growing up bit._

"I understand completely. Makes me glad I get to be a 'dashing young gentleman' and not an 'elegant young lady.' You are quite graceful, though, Miss Darling. I am certain you will float elegantly down those steps."

The song came to an end, and the two broke apart.

"I believe I must return you to your family now. But, Miss Darling?" James began, giving his hair another nervous tug. "May I request the first dance with you tomorrow? That is, if no one has asked you yet?"

Another bothersome flutter rippled through Wendy's stomach.

"No one has asked me yet, but I believe Mrs. Meadows is organizing the first dance," she replied. Mrs. Meadows was the lady who had instructed the debutantes and was hosting the grand ball the next day. "I believe you'll have to speak to her."

"I will make a point to do so, then, with your permission."

As Wendy once again took her place amongst her parents, she noticed their pleased faces.

_Oh dear!_

* * *

Much later, long after the Darling family returned, finding "invalids" John and Michael jumping on the bed, Wendy found herself unable to sleep. She sat up in her canopy bed, looking around her room. Four years ago, Wendy's parents made her move out of the nursery and into her own chamber. Indeed, it was a rather nice room, Wendy had to concede; she had her own walk in closet, vanity table, and tea table with matching chairs.

But it lacked the excitement of the old nursery, where John and Michael resided. Wendy missed the games she used to play with her brothers and the stories she use to spin for their enjoyment.

One story in particular…

Wendy wandered to the window at the back of her bedroom, and climbed up onto the cushioned seat that allowed her to overlook the sleepy London street. Sticking her head out the window that was always left open, she breathed in the night air.

Tomorrow she would be considered a young lady. Growing up loomed in the very, very near future. A single tear drop rolled down her cheek as Wendy thought of a young boy, dressed entirely in green.

"I fear you will be lost to me forever, Peter," Wendy uttered out loud, melancholy in her voice. And then, with a sigh, she did something she had never done before.

She shut the window.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **A few important notes -This story is based off aspects from all three versions: the Disney movie, the original novel, and the 2003 live-action movie version, particularly in that order. In accordance with the Disney version, the Lost Boys did not follow the Darling children home. There is also no Aunt Mildred. (I apologize to fans of the 2003 movie, but that is the version I remember the least. There are still parts of the movie that "fit" with this story - for example, you may assume that Peter and Wendy did share the fairy dance!)

Revised as of 7/14/12. Thanks to the original beta, Manic-Cheese-Fairy.

* * *

**The Biggest Pretend**

xxx

**Chapter Two  
**

With the bedroom window shut for the first time in four years, Wendy retired to her bed, determined to fall asleep.

Unknown to the girl, she was not alone. For what Wendy Darling had mistaken as the twinkling of a distant star was actually the glow of one particular fairy; Tinkerbell, sole sprite of the Boy-Who-Never-Grew-Up, had been listening to the girl's lament.

The curvaceous fairy had never been a fan of "that Wendy girl," but as of late she found herself softening to the eldest Darling child; it was because of Wendy that Neverland's fairy population was thriving. Only days after the Darling family returned from the second star to the right (and straight on 'til morning!), a local author and playwright, J.M Barrie, visited the Darling house, where Wendy told him of the many adventures she and her two brothers had shared with Peter Pan, protector of Neverland and all that is young. Supposing the tale as fiction stemming from the overactive imagination of a twelve-year old girl, Barrie asked Wendy for her permission to write a play, and then eventually a book, based on her and her experiences with the forever-young boy. (Surely you have seen or read such works; most of London society has!)

Although most assumed it was fiction, enough children believed in Neverland that the once dwindling fairy population was growing steadily in numbers; Tinkerbell had never felt stronger.

After witnessing Wendy's sadness, the fairy was filled (literally) with compassion. Fairies, as you must know, are so small they can only contain one emotion at a time. All of Tinkerbell's previous ill-regard and jealousy towards the Darling girl, who Peter had given so much attention, was lost to empathy. She felt compelled to do something, and with this new-found determination, she flew to that little-known star to the right: Neverland.

* * *

With the fanfare of the trumpet, everyone in attendance of the Debutante Ball turned towards the grand staircase in anticipation of the coming-out ceremony. There was an aura of excitement about the room; the young gentlemen were anxious to see which beautiful debutante they might be permitted to dance with in the future, while the previous year's debutantes were determined to sniff out the competition that might interfere with desired courtships.

James was no exception, though one debutante in particular occupied his mind. The young Miss Darling had intrigued him ever since he had seen J.M Barrie's fictitious play and read the accompanying novel, Peter and Wendy. Rumors circulated that London's own Wendy Darling was responsible for most of the ideas behind the content, though no one could confirm it.

The first debutante was announced, and she glided elegantly down the stairs to her spot in front of the crowd; the other young ladies called after her did the same, forming a horizontal line on the floor. When it was Wendy's turn to be called, he noticed her take a deep breath in anticipation of the first step. James chuckled, thinking of her outburst the previous night. She really had no reason to worry, though; Wendy Darling, dressed in a light blue gown made of silk, with her golden-brown hair styled in an updo that eventually cascaded in curls, was without a doubt the loveliest debutante of the season, at least in James' opinion. As she finished descending the steps and took her place in the line, he could see the relief in her eyes at a job well done.

James wondered at his luck; he had been able to reach Mrs. Meadows, the organizer of the event, first before any of the other lads could request Miss Darling's hand in the first dance. There were some good-looking girls in attendance, but James figured he had landed with the best.

Once all the debutantes had been called, the ballroom sounded in polite applause for the newest young ladies of society. The opening chords to the first waltz began as the ten boys, James included, who had been waiting to the side met their designated partners in the center of the floor.

James gave Wendy the customary bow, giving her a little encouraging wink in acknowledgement. She giggled slightly before curtsying back. The two began waltzing about the floor, and James couldn't help but notice the jealous faces of more than a few boys.

"No tripping, I noticed," James began, breaking the ice. "You looked graceful, indeed."

"Thank you. I'm glad I was able to fool somebody. Have you been enjoying the ball, Mr. Worthington?" Wendy returned.

"Please, call me James," he replied, giving the young lady in front of him a wide grin.

"Well," the Darling girl answered, "you really must call me Wendy, then, or it would be dreadfully unfair."

"Beautiful and just! What's next?" James said with mock surprise. Wendy blushed and James, noting her discomfort over his praise, quickly changed the subject. "I read Mr. Barrie's novel, you know, based on your family. Saw the play too. It reminded me of the games we used to play as children. In fact, Captain Hook was my favorite character, though perhaps only because we share the same first name."

Instead of lightening the mood, as James had hoped it would, Wendy only seemed to retract inside herself, looking lost in her head. It was this withdrawn and lost look that the young Darling girl often displayed in public, and it made James wonder what she could possibly be contemplating so often.

As the dance drew to an end, James knew etiquette required that Wendy dance with some of the other boys.

"Wendy, may I request another dance with you tonight?" he asked, nervous for her response. Mentioning the Peter Pan novel had elicited such a strange response from the girl, James couldn't help but feel like he had crossed some invisible boundary.

"Why, of cour-" Wendy cheerfully began, snapping out of her reverie, only to be drowned out by the announcement trumpet, indicating a late arrival to the ball.

"Presenting Mister and Missus Panterwood," the announcer called out with a flourish, "accompanied by their son, Mister Peter Panterwood."

* * *

Wendy froze, tuning out everything around her.

Peter Panterwood? Peter PAN-terwood?

She studied the young gentleman descending the steps. It certainly looked like her Peter, only, well, older. The boy had the same reddish-brown hair, long torso, and child-like glimmer in the eyes that Peter Pan did, but how could it be Peter when the boy in front of her was easily seventeen, if not older? Wendy felt dreadfully confused and all mixed-up; things were no longer making sense.

"…but what do you think, Wendy? …Wendy?" James finished, eying her carefully.

"Of course, James," Wendy replied, unsure exactly what he had been asking her. "You must excuse me," she continued quickly. She began weaving through the crowd towards her parents, never taking her gaze off the newest arrival, leaving a very confused and worried James behind her.

She found her parents fraternizing with the Worthingtons, James' parents. Her father gave her a hearty grin.

"Why, Wendy, are you not off to dance with all the young gentlemen?" he asked loudly. "It seems you have young Mr. Worthington eating out of your hand."

"Mother, who are those people," Wendy asked her mother with a strange sense of urgency, ignoring her father's slightly tasteless remarks. "The family that has just arrived...?"

"Why, Wendy, those are the Panterwoods," Mrs. Darling replied. "They have just returned from India, where Mr. Panterwood's spice trading took them. How they manage to live abroad for two years, I'll never know. Surely you remember then?"

But Wendy could not remember them; she knew everyone in society, if not by name then at least by sight. She was sure that she would remember such a boy, and the parents looked so unfamiliar she felt quite safe in saying that she had never before laid eyes on them. Yet her mother recalled them as if they were old friends.

_How peculiar_, Wendy thought.

Looking once again to the strange Peter Panterwood, she found him standing at the edge of the deserted balcony. Giving Wendy a wink and a beckoning gesture, he opened the doors and stepped outside.

Wendy had no choice but to follow.

* * *

**A/N: **Some interesting "facts" you might be interested in after reading this chapter. J.M Barrie's book was originally published as Peter and Wendy, before being changed to it's present title. The play did indeed come first, followed by the book. The play and novel were separated by seven years, though for plot purposes I have shortened the span to perhaps only two years. The fact about fairies only having enough room for one emotion is something I _think_ is in the actual novel; I could be wrong on this, however.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** Revised 7/31/2013 for minor typos. Thanks to my original beta, Manic-Cheese-Faerie.

* * *

**The Biggest Pretend**

xxx

**Chapter Three**

When Captain Hook, also formally known as James Hook, was born, his mother was quite surprised to find that he possessed no heart, or at least not in every sense of the word. True, there was a red organ beating enduringly inside his chest, but the young boy showed no capacity to love. Give him a dolly, and five minutes later the head would be off, stuffing scattered about the room; offer the child a hug after he scraped his knee, and you'd receive a bite on the finger instead.

"I've produced the spawn of the devil", Mrs. Hook had cried fretfully one afternoon after young Hook had crushed all the heads of her porcelain angel figurines, "He's incapable of love".

But Mrs. Hook was quite mistaken, for as James Hook grew up, turning into the dashing but devious Captain Hook, it was quite evident he loved one person in particular very much: himself. This love was so strong, in fact, that it prevented him from ever loving another; there just wasn't enough admiration to go around.

But this set-back had never kept the clever Hook from convincing a maiden of his "undying love" for her, at least for a night. As you must surely know, there is another island near Neverland, Skull-Bone Island, the haunt of all surrounding pirates. There were many scorned lovers in Skull-Bone who had discovered Hook's deception, but were there even more who believed he had loved them, even in death.

Bridgadette Bellefleur was a member of the latter group. Tall and fair with silky brown hair and a curvaceous body, Bridgadette had grown up as a daughter of a famous French lawmaker. Just like her last name, she was considered a beautiful flower and one of her family's greatest assets. Growing up in the lap of luxury had made Bridgadette spoil and ungrateful, however, and instead of being thankful for her family, she wanted nothing more than to embarrass and anger her father. So, she did the worst thing she could think of for her father's reputation: she ran off and became a pirate's mistress.

After serving as Hook's lover more than a few times, passionate and foolish Bridgadette was convinced that Captain James Hook actually was madly in love with her. When the voluptuous wench heard of Hook's death, she swore vengeance on his murder at any cost.

And such was her intention as she boarded the now captain-less ship, the Jolly Roger.

* * *

The eldest Darling child often found herself thinking with her heart over her head; what seemed like a good idea by the heart's standards ("Surely there's nothing wrong with rolling in the mud with the boys!") was often later condemned by the more logical head, though it habitually seemed to speak up only _after _Wendy embarrassed herself with her heart's antics. Had Wendy been listening to her head, she would have seen the numerous problems with following the mysterious Peter Panterwood out to the balcony. Taking a break after only the second dance? Unheard of! Talking to a young man without a chaperone? Scandalous! Imagining that some random stranger is one's magical friend from a land no one believes in? Well, _that_ was the makings of a crazy person.

Our young heroine, however, was not listening to her rational and reasonable brain, and therefore never considered such thoughts. It was purely her heart that drove her towards the balcony.

Stepping out onto the moonlit terrace, Wendy gazed uncertainly at the gentleman in front of her.

"Aw shucks Wendy, you haven't forgotten me already?" he asked with a chuckle.

_It's him! It's Peter Pan!_

Wendy felt her heart swell up with glee. It had been four long years since she had seen _him_, Peter Pan. Memories seemed to flood through her brain, as if set on fast forward; the magical flight to Neverland, playing Mother to the lost boys, Tiger Lily, mermaids, Captain Hook – was it really four years ago that she had been in Neverland? It felt like just yesterday.

Forgetting completely the rules of proper etiquette, Wendy, most un-ladylike, tackled Peter into a massive hug.

"Oh, Peter!" Wendy said after the two pulled apart from their embrace. "It's really you, then? You look so old!" Indeed, her dear friend had aged, most dramatically. The last time she had seen him, he had been much shorter, the size of a 12-year-old. The boy known as Pan was now much taller, almost the height of James Worthington. Although his green eyes still held that child-like glint that Peter was known for, his face had slimmed down, losing the baby fat that had still graced his face those four years ago.

"Of course it's me!" Peter practically crowed, acting like his normal, cocky self. "It is I, Peter Pan, the greatest boy who ever lived, defeater of pirate scum, and the protector of all things young and good." He crowed, for good measure. "And I am _not_ old. You're the one who has grown old!"

"But how?" Wendy asked thoughtfully, perplexity showing on her face. "I thought no one ages in Neverland?"

"No one does," he replied, matter-of-factly. "But Tink told me you needed me. She said you were upset."

Wendy was rather touched by the fairy's compassion; she hadn't exactly forgotten the sprite's attempt to kill her on her first visit to Neverland. It had been Peter's "kiss," an acorn on a chain, that had saved the young girl's life. Feeling slightly ashamed, she realized she hadn't worn her kiss in over a year. Perhaps she was growing up. She refrained from comment, however, as Peter dearly hated to be interrupted during a story.

"Tinkerbell took me to the Fairy King," Peter continued, "who used his magic to help me grow a little. He temporarily transformed Slightly into my 'father' and Toodles into my 'mother' so they could pose as my parents."

Wendy looked into the ballroom, where "Mrs." Panterwood was currently dunking her head in the punch bowl, to the disgust and horror of surrounding party-goers. She giggled, realizing that Peter's "mother" was really just one of the Lost Boys in disguise.

"Well, that does explain a few things, I suppose," Wendy admitted as Mrs. Panterwood caught her eye and skipped over in delight.

"Look, Wendy-Bird," she said as she arrived into the balcony. "I'm a girl!"

"You're very convincing, Toodles," Wendy said, patting the woman on the head, suppressing giggles.

"_Mother,_" Peter commanded, emphasizing Toodles's current role. "Don't forget to behave proper, jus' like Tinkerbell told ya!"

"Yes, sir!" With a salute, Mrs. Panterwood (Toodles? Wendy was unsure just how to address her friend in disguise) returned to the ballroom.

"But Peter, I have just one more question," Wendy continued, after spending a few moments absorbing all the information. "My mother talked about your family like she knew your … parents well. How?"

"Isn't it a great trick," Peter said with a grin. "It was all my idea! I convinced the Fairy King to use his magic so that everyone would think they knew us already. Oh, how clever am I!"

"Oh, Peter," Wendy said with a happy sigh. "I can't believe you'd do all this for me."

"Do you want to dance, Wendy?" Peter suddenly asked, distracted by the swirling ball gowns of the women inside. "I'm the best dancer in Neverland, you know!"

"Of course, Peter," Wendy replied. "I'm sure you're the best dancer here!"

And as the two glided onto the floor, catching the somewhat jealous eye of James Worthington, all was well.

At least for the time being.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: **Revision as of 7/31/2013 for small typos. Thanks to my original beta, Manic-Cheese-Fairy.

* * *

**The Biggest Pretend**

xxx

**Chapter Four**

For Wendy Darling, it had been a rather splendid night; the entire carriage ride home, all she could think about was the way _her _Peter had twirled her around the floor, dress fanning out around her. She'd been the envy of every girl, for he'd looked so handsome. She couldn't name a better dance partner and certainly didn't look for one. Every dance had gone to Peter, despite her parent's pointed looks.

_Perhaps a proper lady does dance with more than one partner_, thought the young Miss Darling as she leaned back, eyes closed. _But a proper lady could not find a better partner than Peter._

The carriage soon arrived in front of the Darling house; Wendy's youngest brother, Michael, was woken from the slumber he'd quickly fallen into during the ride, and the two, plus the middle child John, sleepily trudged up the stairs. Wendy could tell that her mother wanted to talk to her about the dance and her behavior, but she was too tired to be reprimanded; it would have to wait until morning.

Wendy poked her head into the room, making sure Peter hadn't yet arrived. Quickly, she undressed and put on her nightgown, hoping Peter wouldn't fly in, finding her indecent. When her gown was properly buttoned and her hair bow fixed into place, the girl flitted to the window, throwing it open.

"Peter?" Wendy called out inquiringly. The night returned only silence, the London air nip with a chill. And then, suddenly, a familiar crow echoed in the night.

"Oh, I am the best that ever lived," Peter said with a laugh, tumbling into Wendy's room, Tinkerbell not far behind. "What a swell party!"

"It was fun, was it not?" Wendy replied, smiling at Peter's predictable behavior. "You were certainly the most handsome boy there, Peter."

"Handsome?" Peter asked with a confused looked as he hovered over Wendy's tea table.

"It means you looked very dashing," Wendy clarified. "Very good-looking."

"Oh," Peter said with a shrug. "Of course, I was the best dancer there! No one can dance better than I can."

"Of course, Peter," she replied with a smile. "I cannot wait until the next ball. We will be able to dance again!"

But Peter was not listening, and instead began tugging on her hand. "Are you ready, Wendy?" he asked.

"Why, what ever do you mean?" she responded as the flying boy pulled her closer and closer to the open window.

"To fly to Neverland, of course," he responded with a laugh. "You do remember how to fly, right? Just think your happy thoughts! Oh, and you'll need some fairy dust."

Wendy stopped dead in her tracks. "Go to Neverland? Now?"

"Of course, silly."

"But-But Peter," she sputtered. "I'm not going to Neverland. I-I thought _you_ were staying _here."_ She looked at him hopefully, eager for an affirmative response.

Peter could only let out a long and noisy laugh, dashing Wendy's suppositions.

"_Me_ stay _here?_" Peter asked, still chuckling a little. "How could I ever stay _here?_ I don't ever wanna grow up."

"But you got the fairy king to make you older!" Wendy exclaimed, upset.

"Yeah, he made me seventeen, the very edge between childhood and adulthood," Peter responded, no longer smiling. "If I stay much longer, I'll be an adult forever; I won't be able to return to Neverland!"

Wendy felt torn. How desperately she wanted to be with Peter, to make him happy! To return to Neverland sounded…amazing. But then she remembered why she decided to return home, and her confusion turned into fury.

"Oh, Peter!" Wendy admonished, releasing her hand from Peter's, shoving him towards the window. "You claim to be all fearless, but do you know what I've realized? You're just a big coward – you're afraid to grow up!"

"I am not!" Peter bellowed, springing up into the air.

"That's what you say, but I think it is your biggest pretend," Wendy countered. Having successfully pushed Peter out the window, she grabbed the window handles. Peter, unable to think of a good comeback, hovered outside the sill.

Wendy gave him a wistful look. "Goodbye, Peter Pan," she said quietly before shutting the window and pulling down the shade. Extremely tired and sad, she retreated to her bed.

Peter Pan, however, was not able to forget the painful fight; he flew about the city in silent indignation before stopping at a lonely little park.

"Can you believe her, Tink?" Peter asked, still fuming. "Sayin' that I'm afraid? I'm not afraid of anything! I'm the greatest that ever lived!"

Tinkerbell rolled her eyes. _You stupid boy!_ She responded in her fairy language.

Peter hovered above a park bench, his mind brewing with many assorted plans.

"I will stay around for awhile," he eventually told Tinkerbell. "I'll show Wendy I'm not afraid to grow up! Once she realizes she's wrong, I'll be able to convince her to go to Neverland with me. It's a brilliant plan!"

Tinkerbell merely rolled her eyes again, but Peter didn't let her negativity bother him.

"Of course, I'll have to be careful. I can't remain here _too _long, or else I'll grow up for real and be banished from Neverland," he continued. "Still, I am the greatest boy alive, and if anyone can do it, I can!"

Letting out a trademark crow, he flew out into the night, ready to tell Toodles and Slightly of the new plan.

* * *

There is a popular phrase which says that Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned; this particular phrase counts double when the woman is scorned in love.

And Bridgadette Bellefleur was a woman scorned in love. Perhaps this was why it had been so easy to take over the Jolly Roger, Hook's old ship. All she'd had to do was strut on board in her low-cut dress and yell a little bit, and the pirates practically begged her to become captain. She'd spent the last day reorganizing the captain's room (giving it a wonderfully feminine touch) and bossing men around.

But now it was time for some answers.

"Smee!" she shouted from the captain's quarters, leaning back in Hook's favorite chair, propping her feet up on his desk. She'd even gone so far as to place Captain Hook's trademark black, wide-brimmed hat with the feather on her head.

"Y-y-yes, Captain?" the portly first-mate stuttered as he tripped into the room.

"Who killed my beloved James Hook?" she demanded, jumping right to the point. Bridgadette had never been patient and despised idle talk.

"D-do you mean Captain Hook?" he asked.

"Of course, you insolent fool," she bellowed, sitting up straighter in her seat. "I want to find this person – when I do, they will have wished they'd never been born!"

"Of-of course, Captain," Smee trembled, shaking underneath his red cap. Although Hook had been crazy, he'd always believed in proper manners and being a gentleman, so long as Peter Pan wasn't involved. Smee couldn't help but notice that the new captain didn't share the same sentiments; she'd surely seemed to enjoy the art of yelling.

"It w-was Peter Pan, who lives in N-Neverland. He killed Captain Hook."

"Peter Pan, eh?" Bridgadette mused as she stood up and strolled to the window. Removing her telescope from her belt, she gazed through it to Neverland. Living on Skull-Bone Island, she'd heard of Peter Pan, although she'd never thought much of him. In truth, she highly underestimated his worthiness as an opponent.

Bridgadette turned around abruptly, facing Smee with a sinister smile.

"Take me to him."


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: **Thanks to my guest beta and net!bestie, -EHWIES. Sorry about the long time between chapters. No, I've not given up on this story, and yes, I will try to update much, much sooner this time. (A few people inspired me to write more, but this chapter is dedicated to, in particular, Scarlett88.)

* * *

**The Biggest Pretend**

xxx

**Chapter Five**

"It was just scandalous, Mary, scandalous!" George Darling bellowed to his wife as she joined him in their bed later that night. Mrs. Darling simply sighed and made a signal to dismiss their only housemaid, Liza (or "the servants," as George had taken to calling her, even though he was quite aware they only had one), for the night.

"What was, dear?" she asked as she lay back upon her pillow.

"Why, the way _your_ daughter behaved at the ball tonight," Mr. Darling gruffly replied. Mrs. Darling reminded herself to suppress the chuckle that was rising in her throat. Whenever one of the children misbehaved, George always referred to the culprit as _her_ child, as if she'd simply crawled into the back alley and hatched a child one day with no contribution from him whatsoever. Of course, whenever one of their offspring did something right, he was always boasting about how it was from _his_ genes that the child had found the resources to be successful.

She'd learned to love Mr. Darling's quirky traits, however, for one does learn to love a lot of things after almost eighteen years of marriage. He played the aggressor when it came to discipline, while she swept in like a soft wind to pick up the pieces afterwards. The two agreed on very little; in fact, they disagreed on so many things that they often joked there were only four matters they actually agreed on. One of those things was that they wanted the very best for their children, the other three being that lemon tart was the best dessert, London was determinedly dreary in the winter, and they loved each other very much.

It was for the well-being of their only daughter that Mrs. Darling did have to agree. Wendy had behaved in a most unladylike fashion at the ball, dancing with almost only one young man. (Such an act is only acceptable, as you must surely know, when the young man in question is one's husband.)

"It was downright childish," Mr. Darling continued, not noticing his wife's silence on the matter. "I will not accept it. It's the nursery incident all over again, and she was practically awarded for that when that Barrie fellow indulged her fancies and published them!"

"Maybe you're right, dear," Mrs. Darling interjected, hoping to wrap the conversation soon. She was already beginning to feel the first syrupy sweet whispers of sleep. "But perhaps the best way to turn Wendy into a lady is to treat her as such?"

"What do you mean?" her husband grumbled, raising an eyebrow. "Are you suggesting we not even punish her after that unfit display? I've never seen such a lack of manners, and I certainly have a high regard of etiquette!"

Once again, Mrs. Darling repressed a giggle when she thought back about all the "tact" George was known to display. "Oh, don't you remember what it was like to be young?" she asked instead, thinking back to the first time she'd met her husband at her own debutante ball. "If I recall correctly, you told Winston Wickham to 'bugger off' when he tried to cut in during our waltz. I'm sure we danced a few more dances together than we were supposed to."

Mr. Darling grumbled to himself. Why was it that women always had such temperamental memories? Sure, Mary could recall such a _silly_ little incident _so very_ long ago, but what about when it was something important, like ordering more of his favorite bread or putting her lotions and perfumes away when she was done getting ready? Her wonderful memory always seemed to be on vacation _then._"What do you think should be done, then?"

"Well, perhaps she could start sitting in on my Sunday visits," Mrs. Darling mused. "And maybe it is time we got Wendy her own housemaid, to help her dress and such. Liza would not be able to tend to both of us, I should think."

"Why is it that you people think I'm made of money?" Mr. Darling asked angrily, his eyes beginning to bulge. Mrs. Darling was used to her husband's looks of anger and never felt frightened. "Why, I work all day just so you ruddy people can take the money straight out of my pocket! We'll end up in the poorhouse!"

"Just think about it, darling," Mrs. Darling replied calmly, turning on her side to prepare for the oncoming sleep. "Just think about it."

* * *

A very small part of Wendy awoke the next day hoping the night before hadn't happened. Well, that's not entirely true. She wished – no, _prayed_ – that every moment of the ball had actually existed; she still felt the butterflies in her stomach from when she'd seen her Peter again. What she dearly hoped to be a figment of her imagination was the fight that had happened afterwards. Oh, just remembering some of the things she had said hurt her heart dearly! But one look to the window confirmed everything – it was locked. Wendy knew she would never lock it unless her Peter was….

_Musn't keep thinking of him as my Peter, _she chided herself firmly in her head. No matter how much pain she felt now, she still meant everything she'd said to him. She still wanted to grow up, and she was done playing games with childish boys. _And that is that._

Wendy began dressing herself in one of her new gowns – a birthday gift from a distant relative. The simple teal dress accented her shining golden hair rather nicely, she thought. After admiring herself in the mirror, she began steeling herself for what she knew lay before her at the breakfast table: two terrible displeased parents.

_I suppose last night was not very ladylike of me. I shall do my best to prove to Mother and Father that I am a lady!_ she thought determinedly as she began tromping down the stairs. Remembering that tromping was not on the list of ladylike behaviors, she softened her steps to what she hoped was a ladylike glide, walking only on the balls of her toes.

"I'M GOING TO BEAT YOU, JOHN!" Wendy's younger brother Michael shouted as he began racing down the steps. He halted in his tracks as he observed Wendy's flight down the stairs.

"Why are you walking so funny, Wendy?" he asked curiously, still dressed in his red footie pajamas. Mrs. Darling had coaxed, pleaded, and begged for him to give up the childlike pajamas a year ago, but Michael doggedly refused, clinging to them as other children clung to security blankets.

"I am walking gracefully, Michael," Wendy replied, trying to find the perfect balance of snootiness in her voice.

"You look silly," he observed before continuing his race down the stairs.

When Wendy finally reached the dining room, her feet ached from all her "ladylike gliding." She sat down at her place next to her mother, who was dressed elegantly in a gown of sea-green and coral pink.

"Good morning, Mother, Father," she greeted both her parents. Although she was smiling on the outside, she was already beginning to tear up something awful on the inside. There was just no way her Father would forget about her lack of etiquette last night; although he possessed so few himself, he was always lecturing his children about the importance of fine manners.

"Good morning, dear. Did you sleep well?" her mother asked serenely, delicately cutting into the eggs Liza had just delivered to the table.

"Quite well. I was terribly tired after the ball, I believe," she answered. She instantly regretted her remark; commenting on the ball was only going to give her parents a lead in to a discussion about her behavior.

"That's wonderful," Mrs. Darling simply replied.

"Wendy, there's something we need to discuss with you," Mr. Darling gruffly began. "There are going to be some changes around here, and I expect you to act accordingly."

"Yes, father," Wendy returned, bowing her head in shame. Here it came – the big lecture.

"What your father is trying to say, dear - oh!" Mrs. Darling started to add before Liza's appearance interrupted her.

"Miss Darling, a gentleman is 'ere to see you. I 'ave 'is card right 'ere," she announced in her cockney accent.

With trembling fingers –_could it be? Is it Peter?_ – Wendy took the card from Liza's tray. Although disappointment washed through her body when she read the name, James Worthington, a flicker of something else stirred in her heart; was it a flicker of excitement?

"It is Mister Worthington," Wendy announced to no one in particular.

"Isn't it a bit early for callers?" Mr. Darling grumbled, although even an outsider could see the good-natured smile forming on his shaved face.

"Wendy, why don't we go visit with James in the front parlor?" Mrs. Darling asked in a firm tone that really indicated she had no choice. "I have had enough to eat, and I am sure if you are hungry later, Liza will be glad to provide you with a snack."

Wendy nodded, no longer caring about her almost untouched breakfast; she almost felt too nervous to eat. The two stood up from the table and walked to the parlor – Mrs. Darling gliding elegantly, Wendy trying to copy her behavior (but looking rather ridiculous, if one were to know.) Taking a deep breath, Wendy opened the doors to the green and red parlor to see James standing expectantly.

"Mrs. Darling, Miss Daring," he acknowledged. "How are you on this fine day?"

"Very good, James. Thank you for paying us a visit," Mrs. Darling returned warmly, taking a seat at the large green armchair. Wendy felt too nervous to move and instead continued standing; James seemed to mirror her sentiments, as he made no move towards any of the furniture.

"I was wondering, Miss Darling - if you're up to it, of course – whether you would be interested in taking a stroll to the park with me?" he asked a touch nervously, reaching up to pull on his hair just as he had done the other night.

"That's a very nice offer, James, but I'm afraid I do not have the time to act as your chaperone right now," Mrs. Darling replied. "I'm expecting a visit from Mrs. Lewis this morning." Wendy could see James's disappointed face from across the room, no matter how hard he was trying to hide it; although she could not trace its origin, Wendy felt a strong desire to put the smile back on his face.

"Mother," she began, timidly. "Perhaps it would be alright if we took Michael with us? He doesn't have school today, and I am sure he would love the fresh air." She gave a small smile to James at the end of her speech, hoping he would realize her suggestion was aimed to keep him smiling.

"Why, I suppose there is nothing wrong with that," Mrs. Darling granted after a few moments' thought. "Just make sure Michael doesn't get his clothes dirty." Wendy looked over at her visitor just in time to see the large grin he was trying to hide.

After grabbing her favorite hat and coaxing Michael to accompany them ("But it's too hot out!"), the trio set off down the street towards the local park. Michael, who never was very good at being still, ran five feet in front of them, whooping and hollering as he attempted to catch butterflies and wave at other pedestrians.

"Your brother certainly is a handful," James commented to Wendy as the both watched his entertaining antics.

"He certainly is, Mr. Worthington," Wendy replied; she had long given up her new walk in order to preserve her aching feet from further pain. "But we do love him nonetheless."

"You may call me James, if you remember," he reminded her, giving her a smile. "And I remember what it is like to be a lad. I am sure I was just as crazy and rambunctious."

"I can be so forgetful," Wendy admitted. "I'm sure you recall that you may call me Wendy."

"That I do, and I am glad to have your continued permission." James paused, and then began to slightly chide, "Does forgetfulness run in the family, Wendy? I do believe you forgot that second dance you promised me last night."

Wendy began to blush something furious. "Oh James, I am so terribly sor-"

"Forget it altogether," James advised kindly. "Perhaps you can grant me that promised dance at the next ball? I believe the Cecilia Dashwood and her family are holding yet another one this weekend? "

"I would love to," Wendy answered sincerely as the trio finally reached the park, although she really couldn't stand Cecilia. Cecilia Dashwood, a year old than Wendy, had always teased her when they were children and loved to flaunt her money. Another night at the Dashwoods' would mean another night of having to listen to Cecilia and her airs.

Watching Michael run off to join in a game of cricket with his school chums, the two sat on a bench that overlooked the game.

"Do you remember the games we used to play here, Wendy?" James asked. "We were the Spanish Armada, and your brothers were the pirates."

"Oh, we had so much fun back then," Wendy said fondly, remembering her youth. Had it really been so long ago? "Those games have always made me want to go to Spain!"

"Well, I shall take you one day, then!" James vowed, turning to his companion with a huge smile.

"Promise?"

"I swear on my duty as a gentleman."

"I look forward to it," Wendy replied.

As the two continued talking, they failed to notice the young man with the reddish-brown hair and a sparkle in his eyes approaching them


End file.
